IRIS

It’s a warm Saturday afternoon, and Daisy and I are walking out of the grocery store, arms weighed down with two heavy paper bags each. The sun is out but the breeze is kind, and I squint up at the sky, already tired.

“I needed this weekend so bad,” I mutter, adjusting the strap of my bag. “Finally, two days of peace. No lectures, no professors, no Adrian. Just sleep.”

Daisy lets out a loud laugh. “You say that like you’re eighty.”

“I feel eighty,” I grumble. “I’ve been running on caffeine and deadlines all week.”

“That’s because you bury yourself in books,” Daisy points out with a snort....